A Christmas Carol
by Everdeen1985
Summary: On the Eve of Christmas, Kate Beckett is confronted with her past, in order to improve her present and save her future relationship with Castle.  Adaptation of a Charles Dickens's novel .
1. Chapter 1

**So, I guess it's kind of common here to introduce a story with an Author's Note, right ?**

**Just a little note to explain "Why I wrote this story ?", "When ?", "Who was the president of the United States in 1954", and of course "Where's Wally ?" (Dunno, maybe just check if he's not in the kitchen ? Let me know !).**

**This story came to visit my tormented mind last September. I was watching the end of the episode 3x13, when I heard a reference to a certain story written by Charles Dickens. Then I thought : "Hey ! You should try to write something ! Maybe an adaptation of this story but transposed to the Castle universe ?"**

**And here we are, almost four months later. I tried to write something plausible and realistic, but I have mainly tried to spread some Christmas spirit at a time when this holiday is not always seen the way it should be.**

**So, forget what you were doing until now, lock yourself up in your bedroom, turn down the light just a little bit, and let's travel together through the complicated but beautiful life of Katherine Beckett !**

**In order to further enjoy this story (well, hopefully) I made a playlist of songs to listen to as you  
>read on. You just have to click here : http :  / grooveshark . Com /#/ playlist/OS+A+Christmas+Carol/64194415 (just make sure you put the pieces of the url back together).**

**Before I leave you to your reading, I'd like to thank Myrtillez, who was patient enough to translate this story (Oh yeah I forgot to specify that I'm French and as good at English as Castle is discreet on a crime scene. So maybe this Author's note is not perfect by the way) She has had so much patience (this OS is not exactly what we could call a "short story"). So thank you so much !**

**A special thanks to Wingsss too, who agreed to beta-read this OS and make it sound even more "English" ! **

**And now, without further ado...**

* * *

><p>"I'm telling you, I'm the <em>real<em> Santa Claus!"

Sitting at her desk, Kate looked up to the other end of the room where a man, handcuffed and obviously drunk, was being escorted to the holding cells by two uniforms.

She smiled, slightly amused.

"That is the twelfth 'real' Santa we've arrested today," noted detective Ryan as he walked by his boss' desk, a file in hand.

"At least that one had a beard," pointed out the woman.

"And he didn't bite anybody!" Esposito chimed in as he joined his colleagues, holding up his sore wrist.

"It seems you haven't been a good boy this year, detective Esposito," teased Beckett.

"That'll teach you to grope Santa's butt," added the young Irish detective.

"I was handcuffing him," groaned Esposito in protest.

The familiar ding of the elevator made the trio look up. Stepping out of the elevator came Jenny, dressed to the nines.

"Seems like my date for the evening has arrived!" said Ryan as he gave a small wave to his fiancée.

"I hope you two have a lovely evening. What have you got planned?" inquired Kate.

"Oh something simple," started the young detective as he addressed a large grin to his girlfriend, "first we are having dinner in a nice little restaurant, then we're going to take a ride in a horse-drawn carriage along the snowy river banks, and we finish off the evening at Rockefeller Center to admire the Christmas tree."

"Oh yeah, very simple…" commented Esposito jokingly, "which reminds me bro, the dove protection association asked me to tell you that they will not forget to release 200 birds over the two of you on the stroke of midnight."

"Haha, very funny. You know some of us consider being a couple as something more than what you can see on some cable channel very late into the night…"

Esposito rolled his eyes, visibly not convinced by his partner's excessive romanticism. Ryan gave a small pat on his colleague's shoulder in response and took his leave.

"And what about you Esposito, what are your plans?"

"Dinner at my grandmother's over in New Jersey. Nothing fancy," replied the detective with a shrug as he looked at his watch. "Actually I should probably get going if I don't want to spend Christmas Eve stuck in traffic! I still have to pick up my nephews' presents on the way."

Kate nodded in understanding.

"Go! I'll take care of our twelfth Santa's paperwork and close shop."

"Thank you, you're my Christmas savior," said the detective. "Well, have yourself a Merry Christmas Beckett. What are your plans by the way?"

"Oh, nothing fancy," replied Kate without going into more details.

Esposito nodded, not much for details himself. He then grabbed his coat and disappeared through the elevator doors.

Kate leaned back in her chair and looked around the bullpen; she was the only one left at this late hour on a Christmas Eve.  
>There was a small Christmas tree near the entrance and a string of lights had been hung around the doorframe of Captain Gates' office – although since the latter had not seemed amused by the gesture it had always been left turned off.<p>

"_You think I'm some kind of Christmas tree?" the captain had asked her team when she discovered the ornaments._

_Her question had been left unanswered as the officers fought their desire to burst out laughing._

_They had waited for their superior to lock herself in her office – after throwing a few disapproving glances around – to let out a few laughs here and there._

Kate chuckled lightly at the memory. Then, she sat back up in her chair and pulled herself closer to her desk. She took out a form from one of her drawers and started filling it out.

She had barely started writing the date when the phone resting on her desk vibrated loudly. She quickly glanced at the caller id and, with a smile, she slid her finger over the screen and picked up.

"Good evening, Castle. Aren't you supposed to be tangled up in the kitchen at this hour?"

"Hey! I absolutely am! Actually I just finished sewing up my turkey's privates and I'm now tending to my delicious gravy as we speak. I just wanted to call and see if you had survived this long day without your _perfect__partner_."

The detective rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair, playing with a strand of loose hair.

"It was an uneventful day," she told him, "mostly punctuated by the arrests of various nut jobs, all calling themselves Santa. Same as last year in short."

"Oh gosh, maybe you've arrested the real Santa! Can you imagine that? All those poor children who will not get their presents because of…"

"Children, Castle? Really? You didn't ask for anything this year?" teased Beckett.

"Of course I did! But the present I wished for this year might be a little complicated to get, even if your name is Saint Nicolas."

"I'm intrigued," commented Kate, "what is it?"

"Nuh-huh! Can't tell!" replied the writer. "Presents are like wishes, if you tell them, you don't get them. Everybody knows that."

"Damn," said the brunette in a whisper.

"What?" he asked slightly worried.

"Well, I wish you'd told me that earlier, the other day you left your letter to Santa on my desk and I took a peek…"

"Haha, funny," grumbled the writer on the line.

His grumbling was immediately followed by an intriguing "slurp" that made Kate raise an eyebrow from her side of the line.

"Mmm, this gravy is deliciously perfect," commented Castle, "a masterpiece if I do say so myself."

"And you're not saying this just because you made it, right?" Beckett retorted teasingly.

"Of course not! I wouldn't dare!" protested Castle dramatically.

A brief moment of silence followed their exchange before Castle spoke again, taking a more serious tone.

"And, err—have you given any new thoughts to my proposal? You're sure you don't want to come spend Christmas Eve with us? Mother is performing tonight, but I know Alexis would be delighted."

Kate was not so sure about that last part. Her relationship with the teenager had seemed somewhat awkward over the last few months…

"And, to be perfectly honest," continued the writer, "I made enough of this succulent gravy to feed a small army."

Kate shook her head, forgetting a brief moment that he could not see her, before answering.

"Again, Castle, it's very sweet of you to invite me, but Christmas is a family holiday. I'd rather you spend it with yours."

"It's precisely my point. It's a family holiday and your father is on the other side of the country while your best friend is attending some sort of medical seminar – which, if you ask me, is an odd time for a seminar. You can't spend the evening alone!"

"Don't worry about me Castle," replied the young woman, "I've got plans. I've got an order placed for a delicious take-away Christmas meal, a new bottle of wine ready to be opened and they're showing 'A Christmas Carol' on cable…"

"Oh! I love that movie!" interrupted Castle.

"See, I've got a pretty good evening set up after all," said the detective with a faint smile.

"It still sounds less appealing than tasting my exquisite gravy but alright, I won't insist. I hope you have a pleasant evening Beckett."

"You too, Castle, " she told him with a smile, "have yourself a merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Kate."

Beckett hung up the phone and put it back on her desk, thoughtful. She was not exactly sure why she had turned down his invitation. When the writer had asked her for the first time a few days back, she had hesitated for a brief moment before turning him down. She had immediately seen the disappointment in his eyes and had almost felt like changing her mind and accepting, at the risk of seeming rather indecisive. But a small, ever-present, increasingly annoying voice in the back of her head had held the words back. In truth, she was not very keen on Christmas celebrations anyway…

She was deep in her Christmas thoughts when the lights of the bullpen suddenly went off, leaving her completely in the dark.

"Geez, thanks guys, but some of us are still working," she complained to the empty room.

She waited a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark before getting up. With the help of her phone as a flashlight, she found her way to the switch. She thought the guys downstairs had simply switched off the main power lines on their way out, assuming the building was now empty, and she would be able to turn them back on for her floor manually, but when she tried, nothing happened.

She then looked around and, through a window, she realized that the whole neighborhood was in the dark and sighed. It certainly wasn't the first time that, because of the snow, an electric cable or generator defaulted, cutting off large parts of the city from the rest of the world—the downside of living in a city that relies heavily, if not entirely, on electricity.

Carefully, she found her way back to her desk, determined to finish her paperwork, even if it meant working by the light of her phone. When she looked at the screen, the clock indicated it was nine pm.

"Alright, let's finish this up quickly so I can get back to my apartment with lights and heat working… hopefully," she muttered as her body suddenly registered the drop in temperature.

She tried to scribble a few notes on her piece of paper but for some odd reason her phone's light kept dying out and, when she took out her flashlight instead, the battery died out immediately. She let out a heavy sigh and sat back in her chair.

The silence in the bullpen on this Christmas Eve had a peaceful, somewhat reassuring feel to it. She had spent her fair share of Christmases in this room, on years when the 12th was on call and she had almost always volunteered to work on those nights. But tonight, the room felt different to her, dark and quiet as it was.

She thought of the families who, at this very moment, were probably sitting down around a table, ready to enjoy a good meal. She thought of those parents who were exchanging knowing looks as they thought of the gifts their little ones would get to open in the morning.

Looking back, she realized she had not really celebrated Christmas properly since her mother had been prematurely taken away from her. Because the anniversary of her death fell in early January, this closeness to the holidays had always tinged them with an unavoidable bitterness as they announced this fateful date and revived painful memories.

Thus for the last twelve years or so, she and her father had been content with simply sharing a meal together on Christmas Eve and usually parting ways before midnight had even come. This year though, her father was away. This year, she would definitely be home long before midnight.

She closed her eyes and let her mind travel back to those Christmases when the Beckett family was at its happiest, celebrating the holiday with great pomp for their little one's delight.

Eyes still closed, she felt as though the light had suddenly come back and she opened them, surprised. Was the power back on? Or was it just her phone playing tricks on her again?

It was neither. She raised a quizzical eyebrow when she saw that the small Christmas tree and the decorations around the captain's office were twinkling, despite the fact that the electricity was still out everywhere else—a situation that did not seem plausible to her pragmatic mind.

She got up and, phone in hand just in case, she walked over to the tree. She followed the cables of the tinsel lights all the way to the power outlet and saw that it was indeed plugged in to the main power line and not running on some kind of alternate generator.

She tried the main switch one more time, hoping for some change, but nothing happened. When she looked back out the window, she saw, once again, that the power was still out in the whole neighborhood.

Kate mechanically rubbed her neck. Something was definitely off. She bent down and unplugged the lights but, much to her surprise, they continued to twinkle rhythmically.

She stepped around the tree, trying to figure out the mechanism that made those lights work without apparent power. If Castle had been there, she knew he would have given her at least a dozen reasons for this phenomenon, none of them reasonable.

She spent a good five minutes dissecting every angle of the tree, trying to find the hidden power source, inspecting each branch, each light.

"You're still as analytical as ever…"

The voice had come out of nowhere and made Kate jump and drop her phone.

The woman's whisper, that sounded strangely familiar and had made her jump, had come from the far end of the room, near her desk. But from where she stood, she could not see anything.

As a reflex, she had brought her hand to the piece attached to her hip, although, oddly enough, when the voice echoed in the surrounding silence, she had not felt threatened in any way.

She took a step forward and allowed herself to lean on Ryan's nearby desk for support and called out with as much assurance as she could muster:

"Who's there?"

There was only silence.

"I'm armed!"

"I don't think you'll be needing your weapon Katie," replied the calm woman.

Her voice sounded strangely appeasing…

The young detective almost slipped and fell when she heard it again. That voice… How could she not recognize it immediately? She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"_Come on Kate! You're just tired. Castle must have slipped something into the coffee grinds to play a prank on you! It's gotta be him! This is not real!"_

She opened her eyes tentatively, hoping that this haunting voice would have disappeared and she would find the silence she had grown so used to again. But it was not so.

"No Katie, I didn't disappear in the blink of an eye," commented the soft voice, visibly amused.

Beckett remained frozen, stunned by the impossibility of the moment. She, who had lived such a rational and down-to-earth life, could not believe in the presence of this woman. She clenched her colleague's desk so hard, her knuckles turned white.

"The tinsel lights work without any power," continued the voice in a whisper, "and yet you don't close your eyes hoping you're in some sort of disturbingly realistic dream."

She seemed to be reading her mind.

"This is it, isn't it? I'm dreaming?" asked Kate between clenched teeth.

"Do you often ask yourself this question when you are indeed asleep?"

"That's not… an answer," retorted Kate with a strained voice.

"It's the only one I've got…"

The young woman shook her head once again, not knowing what to make of this surreal situation. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes again, this time to find the courage to take a few steps forward, towards her desk.

As she got closer, she could begin to make out a silhouette, leaning against the piece of furniture, facing the white board – a position she so often found herself in.

She did not need to step any closer to recognize the woman standing there – she hadn't changed a bit… This was completely insane.

When she was only a few feet away, the woman lifted her head and smiled at her.

"Hello, Katie."

The young detective faltered and felt a knot form in her throat.

"I've had this dream before. This is no different. I'm going to wake up and find you gone, just like always…"

She shook her head.

"Yes, you'll be gone again…"

Johanna's smile did not disappear but it grew graver and she tapped on the spot of the desk by her side to invite her daughter over.

There was a sort of natural glow emanating from her. Not any of those cheesy halos or rays of light one can see on some ridiculous TV films, but a simple glow, warm and comforting.

Kate took a few steps, still convinced that she was dreaming, as down-to-earth as ever.

She was now only a couple of feet away from her, but did not have the strength to sit by her side. The sudden closeness allowed her to see just how real this apparition looked and it made her dizzy.

Johanna looked deep into her daughter's eyes, understanding her distress.

She then took the time to admire the woman standing before her from head to toe.

"You were already a beautiful child, but you've grown into a magnificent woman, Kate."

Beckett leaned against the white board for support and closed her eyes again, shaking her head in disbelief.

Of course, when she reopened them, her mother was still standing there.

"Why?" was all she was able to ask. "Why?" she repeated, at a loss.

Johanna smiled.

"I heard a rumor that my daughter didn't like celebrating Christmas anymore. I found that hard to believe given how much you adored the holiday when you were a child."

"I think I have extenuating circumstances, don't you?" replied Kate. "Christmas was _our_ holiday. Without you… it's just pointless."

Johanna shook her head, with a mix of tenderness and disapproval in her eyes.

"You can't live in the past forever Kate. You are about to miss out on a lot of good things if you persist on looking back to the past…"

"I'm not sure I understand."

Johanna nodded.

"Of course you don't. But I'm here to show you."

"Show me what?"

Kate had pushed herself away from the white board and stared at it intently, as though hoping it would hold all the answers. But it was as blank as ever.

"Things that were. Things that are. And things that will be."

Kate turned her head back to her mother and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I'm not sure I understand any better when you put it like that…"

"You will, don't worry," replied Johanna with a warm smile.

With those words, she held a hand out to her daughter.

Kate looked at her mother, at the hand and back up to her mother, not sure what she was supposed to do.

"Take my hand, Kate," she whispered.

The young detective swallowed hard. Accepting that she was talking to a 'ghost' was one thing, putting her hand out and touching this apparition was another.

"Everything will become clear," promised Johanna with an ever-present smile.

Kate slightly shook her head.

She imagined that Castle would be beside himself in a moment like this, biting his hand in excitement and giving her a good old 'I told you so' about the existence of ghosts, little grey men and the likes. But it was not easy for a Cartesian mind like Beckett's to believe in these things.

"You think too much," whispered Johanna, "just take my hand, Katie."

Kate felt a shiver crawl down her spine. The way her mother called her name… she hadn't heard that voice call her name in so many years… It was surreal… So surreal. But after all, wasn't this an opportunity she had to take? Even if it all turned out to be a dream in the end, wasn't it worth taking this hand in hers? Wasn't it worth feeling the touch of her mother after so many years of absence?

Eventually, she raised her arm and extended her hand to meet her mother's.

The air seemed suddenly hot, suffocating. And the closer she got to the open palm waiting for her, the more she felt an indescribable feeling wash over her – as though micro-electric shocks coursed through her body from head to toe.

When their two hands finally met, her surroundings vanished in a silent explosion, replaced around her by millions of tiny white and yellow dots, as though they were surrounded by shining stars. Her mother's face became blurry before disappearing completely.

And she lost consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**December 24th, 1984**

The first thing Kate saw when she opened her eyes was some old, greenish piece of wood with various carvings on it.

She edged herself up on one elbow and realized she was in fact lying on a bench. Except this particular bench seemed different from the others, it felt so much bigger, almost out of proportion.

She blinked a few times to try and completely wake herself up as a few persistent white dots still danced in front of her eyes. She shook her head.

It was daytime. Only a few seconds before she had been in the precinct, at night, talking to… to her mother's "ghost" – something she still had a hard time wrapping her head around – and now there she was, waking up on a bench, in the middle of a park, surrounded by trees. In front of her, there was a large, frozen lake where children and adults alike were ice-skating. A woman walked her dog right past her without so much as a look to her.

Kate lifted a hand to rub her eyes and suddenly understood that it was not the bench that was out of proportions, it was she who was small.

She frowned and lifted her second hand to check: both limbs were indeed that of a small girl's.

"_It__'__s__official,__I__'__ve__been__drugged,__"_ she thought.

She looked down at herself. She was, quite obviously, in a little girl's body, wearing a winter coat that looked somewhat familiar and a red scarf with fluffy pompoms.

"_Either that or I ended up in some kind of bad remake of that movie…"_

"'_Big__'_ wasn't so bad," said a voice that she was slowly getting used to hearing again, "Tom Hanks even won a Golden Globe for it!"

She turned her head and saw her mother standing to the left of the bench, all smiles. She had not heard her… or more specifically "felt" her.

She shook her head for the nth time over the last half hour before deciding to forego any rational thoughts for the time being.

"'_Big__'_…" she repeated, thoughtful, "we went to see it together when I was ten. I remember."

Kate was startled by the little girl's voice that came out of her mouth – a voice that had been hers for many years but that she had completely forgotten. It was an odd feeling.

Johanna nodded and sat down by her daughter's side.

"Right. And you had spilled some popcorn over the woman in front of us by accident."

Kate grinned from ear to ear at the memory. She remembered perfectly.

"Yes! And we had to quickly change seats before the woman noticed she had popcorn all over her hair."

Johanna also smiled broadly at the memory of this mother-daughter moment.

Silence fell between the two women – a mother who had never aged and the child that Kate had become again.

"That being said, none of this has happened yet at this precise moment in time."

Kate arched an eyebrow.

"You're only six."

The young girl shook her small head.

"So you're doing a 'back to the past' on me? Without the DeLorean…"

Johanna smiled and nodded.

"Something like that. Come on, let's walk."

The young mother got up on her feet, stuffing her hands in her pockets and silently invited her daughter to follow.

After a moment's hesitation, Kate – who was temporarily Katie again – shrugged and decided to follow this wherever it would lead her. She would have time to analyze things when she would 'wake up.'

They walked a few steps side by side as Katie adjusted her walk and posture to this new, smaller body of hers. After a moment, she was walking with confidence again and Johanna extended a hand to her.

"Just like old times?" she asked with a smile.

The girl stared at her mother. It was the second time in a short while that Johanna had extended her hand like that, but this time, the moment felt particularly significant to the little girl who was standing by her mother's side.

There was a sort of 'déjà-vu' to this moment.

After hesitating a few seconds, she slid her cold hand into her mother's and shivered slightly at this warm touch.

They walked hand in hand in silence; words, feelings and emotions being expressed quite simply by this simple gesture, those two hands touching.

Kate felt the knot in her throat coming back. But she knew it was not the time to break down and so she pushed it back, holding on to her mother's hand a little harder instead.

"Here we are," said Johanna as the trees in front of her parted.

The little girl looked up where her mother was pointing; between the trees, she could see a clearing that seemed somewhat familiar.

As they got closer, images came back to her. If her memory served her right, she had spent many an afternoon in this very same space, enjoying one of her favorite childhood past-times…

"The carousel," she whispered in a strangled voice.

Johanna simply nodded.

"You spent hours on that white horse with a broken ear. You had even nicknamed it Penny, do you remember? You were a champion at catching the brass ring, even if it meant breaking a few baby teeth along the way…"

Kate blushed at this slightly embarrassing memory. She had indeed reacted a 'little' violently a few times when another child had dared grab the much coveted ring in her place.

"Your father and I would leave you here when we arrived and get you a single ticket. Yet, we always had the time to go around the whole park and find you still on that horse when we got back as you'd managed to keep your seat."

"To be quite honest," confessed Kate, "I had made a friend out of the carousel boy… I forgot his name…"

She searched her memory.

"Gustav!" she announced triumphant after a short but intense moment of thoughts. "And so, at times, when I missed the ring, he'd just give me a wink and let me stay for the next ride. I never understood why he'd let me stay… But I sure wasn't going to complain."

"Hum…"

Johanna cleared her throat and her little girl looked up at her, intrigued.

"My turn to confess. To be honest, when you went with your father to get one of those 'legendary ice-creams' as you called them, I would give Gustav a little tip for letting you stay on the carousel and keeping an eye on you in the process. It was a sort of implicit agreement between us."

"Oh I see," replied Kate, thoughtful, "so many dreams shattered…"

Johanna smiled and her small daughter smiled back.

"Here we are," announced the young mother.

Indeed, as they had evoked this particular memory, they had reached the entrance of the square and Kate noted with some nostalgia that the carousel was standing proud in its center.

The square was strangely filled with people at this hour of the day – although in truth Kate had no idea what time of the day it was exactly. Children were running around, wearing 80's-styled clothes, as did their parents. Most roamed around the place aimlessly, as children often do, some fought to get in line for a ride on the carousel while others were being chastised by a parent who was unhappy about the huge hole they had made in the new pair of pants. The place smelled like cotton candy and candied apples.

"I'm not sure I understand what we're doing here," commented Kate with renewed skepticism.

"Just watch. You'll understand soon enough," replied Johanna with a tender smile.

Kate observed the people in front of her, studying each child carefully. She stopped a moment on a twelve-year old boy with brown hair and blue eyes, who was wearing a thick blue wool sweater and who looked vaguely familiar. Then, a few meters away, near the carousel's desk, she saw "herself."

Her other self was wearing the exact same outfit she was and she shook her head, confused by the sight. Although she was back in her younger body, she couldn't see herself; the whole experience was more about feelings and senses.

Seeing the child that she used to be was disconcerting on a whole new level.

"Let's get closer," suggested Johanna.

They started walking among the crowd gathered at the square. Kate quickly understood that no one could see them as she looked at the blue-eyed boy intently and he kept looking past her without so much as an acknowledgement.

When they reached the cashier, she saw that the other version of herself was leaning against the wooden shack crying.

"Why am I crying?" she asked, unable to remember this particular moment.

"I'll give you a hint: today is the 24th of December and you're six."

Kate searched her memory for that particular moment, scanning through all of her Christmases, remembering some better than others. Then, it hit her.

"Santa Claus! One of the boys I had…hum… 'stolen' the brass ring from had just told me Santa wasn't real!"

Johanna nodded.

"I was so sad and disappointed," whispered the woman turned little girl as she bit her bottom lip and looked at her alter ego with compassion.

"At first you were, yes," confirmed Johanna, "but look what happened next."

Intrigued, Kate looked up at her mother and then back at her other self. She did not have a clear memory of that day. She could only remember it was the day she had learnt that Santa was not real and she knew that, just like any other kid, she must have been rather disappointed.

The little Kate in front of them wiped her tears with her sleeve, sniffling a little and blinked her eyes rapidly to get a hold of herself. Kate smiled when she saw that old, long forgotten habit of hers to blink her eyes rapidly, as though the air would dry her tears a lot faster. Even as a child, she noted, she refused to stay down for too long.

The little girl shook her head, readjusted her clothes and straightened herself up before making her way to a bench on the other side of the square. It was another one of those green benches, except on this one, the girl would find her father and her mother who had not seen her cry a few seconds before.

Johanna motioned for her adult daughter to follow as they moved closer to hear the conversation.

The Jim and Johanna of the past lifted their heads when they saw their daughter approach.

"So, how many times did you get the ring this time sweetheart?" inquired her father with a proud smile.

Kate grumbled some kind of answer and hung her head low.

"Is something wrong Katie?" asked her mother, worried.

The little girl shook her head to signify that she was fine, although everything on her face screamed the exact opposite.

"You know you can tell us if there is something wrong," insisted Jim. "And if another child hurt you in any way, you just have to say the word and I will show him what the Becketts are made of!"

Kate looked up at her father and studied him, appraising whether he was really serious. Deciding he must have been, she pivoted and pointed a finger at a fair-haired boy riding a dark Chestnut horse on the carousel.

"Him," she said softly.

Jim and Johanna frowned in unison.

"What did he do?" asked Johanna. "Did he try to start a fight with you?"

The girl shook her head no.

"He refused to leave the ring to you?"

There was some of that… but it was not the reason for her breakdown.

"He says…" she started, with a quivering bottom lip.

"What does he say sweetheart?" whispered Johanna as she got off the bench and knelt by her daughter's side.

Kate looked in turn at her father and at her mother through misty eyes before explaining in a cry:

"He says that Santa's not real!"

Jim and Johanna looked at each other, disappointment clearly visible on their faces. They knew that the day would eventually come when their daughter would learn the truth about Santa's existence, but they had hoped it would not be the day before Christmas.

Johanna bit her bottom lip and looked back at her daughter. She brought a caring hand to her face and wiped the few tears that had dared run down those baby cheeks.

Jim also got off the bench and knelt by his daughter's other side.

"You know what Katie?" he started in a hushed voice, as though he was telling her a secret nobody else was allowed to hear.

The little girl looked at her father with a sniffle, clearly interested in what he had to say.

"Do you remember the magical Christmas card that grandma gave you for your birthday? You know, the one with the image that changed completely if you looked at it from the side?"

Katie nodded, not really sure she understood where her father was going with this.

"If you looked at it from the front, all you could see was an empty landscape, but if you looked at it from the side, you could see a little house with a chimney, clouds…"

"And a dog under a tree!" proclaimed the girl who remembered her magical card perfectly.

Jim nodded.

"Yes, and a dog under a tree. Well, you see, Santa Claus is like that card. Depending on the way you look at the world, you see things a bit differently. So, if some people want to believe that Santa's not real, others want to believe that, if you look from the side, then maybe Santa is a little bit real."

The little girl sniffled and looked at her father, undecided. She was not sure she understood everything he had said, but what she did understand was that maybe Santa was a little bit real after all. And why wouldn't she trust the man who ran around the house with her on his back instead of a young boy she didn't even know?

"And you know," added Johanna, "Santa Claus is not the only important thing about Christmas. There are so many other wonderful things. What do _you_ like about Christmas, Katie?"

The girl thought for a moment.

"Hum… I like the tree that smells like fake snow and the chocolates in my calendar! Oh, and I like decorating the table for the guests by putting their names in the little silver ducklings we use to serve _foie__gras_! Oh and also, I like the decorations we put on the living room windows with grandma last week! And the candy canes too! And the presents! I really love the presents! Oh and also… also…"

The young girl was smiling again as she enumerated the long list of things she loved about Christmas with renewed enthusiasm.

Jim and Johanna shared a loving, caring look.

"So you see," explained Johanna once her daughter had ran out of ideas, "Santa is just a tiny element in all of this. Even without Santa, there are still many, many things to look forward to at Christmas, don't you think?"

Katie nodded, thoughtful. It was true that compared to all the awesome things she had just mentioned, the idea of a strange man with a beard who she had never even met coming into her home at night seemed rather insignificant. She grinned at the two fantastic parents in front of her who had found the right words to reassure their daughter.

"Now I want a big hot chocolate with cinnamon in it!" she exclaimed. "Can we go home?"

Both parents nodded and got back on their feet.

A few feet away, an adult version of Kate looked at the trio walking away with love and tenderness. Johanna looked down at her daughter, touched by the look she was giving the happy family.

"I had completely forgotten," she said after a moment.

"You see Katie, you loved Christmas for so many different reasons. Actually, you probably don't remember but you managed to continue that list on the ride back home as well. It was a very long list, trust me!"

Kate smiled, both amused and nostalgic. She was not all that surprised by what her mother was telling her. Seeing that moment, hearing that conversation, she had felt for a brief moment the way her younger self used to feel about Christmas, when the holiday was her favorite time of the year.

"I want to tell you the same thing I told you twenty-five years ago," whispered Johanna. "You were saying earlier that Christmas didn't feel the same without me. But I was only a small part of that celebration you loved so much. And I'm sure that if you look at things differently, you'll find me still there in the picture."

Kate shook her head, not quite convinced.

"You can't compare yourself to Santa Claus. He was just a concept, someone I had never seen anyway. You… You were at the heart of the scene."

Johanna bit her lip.

"I understand Katie, but you can't live in the past forever. You have got to leave some room for the present in your life, and for the future, too. And so, maybe you'll change the image on the canvas, but that doesn't mean it won't still be just as beautiful."

"You're taking me back to the past to push me to live in the present and build a future, nice paradox," Kate acknowledged.

She thought for a moment that it was a good thing people could not see or hear them. They would probably have been surprised to hear a six-year old speak in such terms.

"This is only the beginning of our journey Katie," whispered Johanna with a smile.

With those words, she held her hand out for her daughter again.

This time, Kate, who had pretty much given up trying to 'understand' any of this, took the hand almost immediately.

Just like before, she felt a comforting warmth engulf her and their surroundings disappeared in the same silent explosion.

She wanted to throw in the appropriate "where are we going Doc?" but she did not have time to as the park disappeared before her eyes, replaced by emptiness.

Then, she lost consciousness again.


	3. Chapter 3

**December 24th, 2011**

When she came to and before even opening her eyes, Kate gladly noticed that she was waking up on a much more comfortable surface than a public bench.

She carefully and slowly opened her eyes in case of a bright light ready to assault her, but instead she found she was in a room with subdued lighting coming from two lamps hanging on the wall opposite her.

She looked down and realized she was lying on burgundy sheets made of silk judging by the way they felt. She also noted that she was back in her adult body.

She frowned at the thought of being on a bed that clearly was not hers.

"It's true that we are not in a place you have come to very often," commented the woman by her side.

Kate sat up and saw her mother sitting on the edge of the bed, opposite her.

"So, where are we now?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"I'll let you guess this one," replied Johanna with a smile.

Kate looked around and inspected the room meticulously.

She was in a bedroom – as the bed she was sitting on made quite obvious. The walls were painted in a dark color and a whole façade made it look like a well-furnished library.

She looked at the nightstand by the bed and found a phone charger, a pen and a handkerchief. Clues that did not help her much…

But then, something struck her and she looked back up at the library in front of her.

Between a copy of "Aliens are among us and their leader is a CNN anchor" and "How to build your own Tardis" she saw the complete collection of…

"We're at Castle's!" she exclaimed as she quickly jumped off the bed.

"Wow, you look like those sheets are going to set you on fire," joked Johanna, amused by her daughter's reaction. "Technically we're not really here. Or at least he can't see us."

"I… err—Why Castle? And _when_ are we exactly? Because I'm clearly not six anymore."

Her mother chose not to answer her question and, smile still firmly set on her face, she got off the bed and headed towards the door. A ray of light filtered under it, indicating there was life on the other side.

"Follow me, watch and analyze. You ask too many questions."

With that sentence the young woman flashed back to when she was ten, following her mother inside the courtrooms where she worked with an irresistible attraction to unsolved cases.

Obeying her mother, just like then, she followed her through the door and out of the writer's bedroom.

The delicious smell of food cooking reached their nostrils as they stepped into the living area of the loft.

When they reached the kitchen area, Kate realized that Castle was standing there, his back to her. He was wearing an apron over a white shirt and was swinging his hips and singing over the sink.

She bit her lip to refrain from laughing. Johanna motioned for her to come to the living room where they settled on one of the couches to observe the scene.

In front of them, completely unaware of their presence, the writer continued his little song and dance. He spun around, wooden spoon in hand and used it as a microphone as he hummed "Falalalala, lalalala."

The brunette smiled tenderly at the sight of the man who had shared her eventful life for the past three years singing Christmas songs. She was torn between the desire to laugh out loud– his apron did read, "I did everything! Except dinner"– and the desire to join in.

"Pumpkiiiiiiiin!" Castle suddenly shouted, putting an end to his show.

Alexis answered something from the upper floor.

"I'm waiting for you to put the presents under the tree!"

Kate looked over to the imposing Christmas tree that stood next to the writer's office door. She had not even paid attention to it yet. It was huge and beautifully decorated with white and golden balls as well as some colorful tinsels.

Behind her the teenager walked down the stairs, holding two carefully wrapped presents in her hands.

Castle quickly turned his back on her, putting a hand over his eyes.

"I don't wanna see the shape of mine," he told his daughter. "Hide it behind the tree so I'm not tempted to open it before midnight!"

Alexis rolled her eyes, amused.

"Dad, you say that every year. And every year you spend the whole dinner ogling your present! Two years ago you even broke the crystal penholder I had brought back from Vancouver by shaking the box too much."

"That's because I had asked for a Canucks scarf that year, pumpkin. A scarf doesn't break when you shake it."

Alexis shook her head with a smile. Her father would never stop being a child, that was a fact.

She walked over to the tree and set down her two presents as much against the wall as possible so they would not be too visible.

"There," she said, "your turn to put your gifts under the tree."

"Right. But come here and watch my gravy. I don't want it to burn, it would be a monumental waste!"

He gave his daughter the spatula and placed her right in front of the stove. He kissed her forehead and headed to his bedroom.

"Don't look!" he warned from the other side of the room.

Alexis bit her lip, quite entertained by her father.

"I promise!" she replied. "But I already know what it is."

The writer had just reappeared in the room and he looked suddenly thoroughly disappointed.

"What do you mean you know?" he asked, anxious.

Alexis took a moment to think, tapping the spatula over her chin before giving her father a large, wicked grin.

"I'm joking dad! You put so much effort in keeping our presents a secret each year that it's like you're protecting vital, highly classified information. You should work for the CIA with those skills, not for a run-of-the-mill New-York precinct."

The writer let out a relieved sigh and happily sashayed over to the Christmas tree, hiding the presents behind his back.

Although vaguely disinterested, Alexis could not help but notice that there were not two but three presents in his hands and the third one looked bigger and heavier than the rest.

"Is one of us getting a second present? If it's for grandma, I'm telling you now, I'm moving out to live with Lauren tomorrow," warned the young girl with feigned offense.

"You said you wouldn't look!" retorted her father with a pout.

He set down his presents and joined his daughter in the kitchen.

"There is a third present, yes. I actually meant to give it to Beckett, but since she turned down my offer the other day…"

Castle took his spatula back, lifted the lid off the pot and stirred his gravy.

Alexis put a hand on his shoulder.

"You're disappointed she said no, right?"

"Mmm, taste this!" replied the writer as he brought the spatula to her lips.

"Don't change the subject," continued Alexis. "You should have insisted. Does she know you got her something?"

The writer shook his head no. From her couch, Kate observed them attentively.

"No. I think after the last few months we've had she needed to be alone. I didn't want to hold her hostage. Contrary to her, I suck at setting people free, so…"

"You honestly think that after the rough times she's had these past few months being alone at Christmas is the best remedy?"

Castle stopped his stirring. His daughter was not so wrong.

"I didn't want to insist… Even if she did seem a little hesitant at first…"

"Well, you should have!" chastised Alexis. "She would probably have a much better time here with us than alone in her apartment. Maybe all she needed was to see that you _really_ wanted her to come over."

Castle knit his eyebrows.

"Aren't you the one who recently told me you didn't approve of my partnership with Beckett because it lead me to a life of constant danger?"

Kate also frowned at those words. She now had confirmation. She had not just made up the fact that the young girl seemed more distant with her.

"It's not her I was fed up with, it was you. Although it's true that if it weren't for her you wouldn't be risking your life three or four times a week…"

"So you are a bit mad at her…"

Alexis shook her head.

"No, dad. Before Beckett came into your life, you were always either taciturn or completely disconnected from reality. And there were more women coming through that door than daily visits at the Empire State!"

"Hey! Not _that_ much…"

The writer cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed as Alexis nodded in confirmation.

"I'm barely exaggerating. You may not see it dad, but since you've been working with her, you've changed. You've grown up. Well, you still want to draw straws to determine who will get the present in the cereal box… and that's great. I love you for it! But because of her you've also become more mature, wiser… and, more importantly, a lot less gloomy. She made you a happier man and a better writer. So no, I'm not mad at her. I'd rather see you risk your life every day and come home with a silly grin on your face than see you locked up in your office, throwing paper balls out the window over the neighbors' plants."

The words had come out unbridled and she took a moment to take a breath.

"Okay, well, first of all," started the writer after his daughter's monologue, "I do not have a silly grin when I come back from the precinct."

Alexis gave him an unconvinced stare. He continued, unfazed.

"Secondly, the neighbor deserved it. She has hideous… hair curlers."

His daughter shook her head, although this time she smiled, sharing the same opinion about those curlers.

"Thirdly… At times I really wonder how old you are," he added, putting a hand on her forehead. "You talk like a seasoned shrink sometimes."

"Well I do have eighteen years of 'Richard Castle' experience under my belt. It's pretty much the same thing," she replied teasingly.

He smiled.

"Fourthly, thank you."

Alexis nodded in reply.

"Fifthly," she continued with a serious tone.

"Fifthly?" inquired the writer.

The teenager left her father's side and walked over to the counter where the phone lay.

"Fifthly, call her."

She handed the phone to him. He hesitated a moment, spatula in hand, thoughtful. Then he took the device.

"Best of luck, captain!" encouraged his daughter.

"Aye, mate," thanked Castle as he started dialing Beckett's number.

For the next few minutes, Kate heard the whole phone conversation she had had earlier with the writer. Except this time, she found herself wishing her alter ego would say yes to his request.

But, just like the first time, the Kate on the other end of the line gently turned down his offer.

When Castle put the phone down and turned around to face his daughter, giving her a rather sad look, she felt terribly bad for refusing to join them.

Alexis walked over to her father and hugged him tightly.

"You can give her your present on Monday, at the precinct."

Castle nodded, threading a hand in his daughter's hair.

"Right. How about you turn on the TV, pumpkin. Apparently they're showing 'A Christmas Carol' on cable tonight."

"Oh, your favorite Christmas movie!"

Castle smiled and nodded half-heartedly before going back to tending to his gravy.

There would be no more singing.

Kate felt a hand on her arm and was reminded of her mother's presence. For a moment, the world had disappeared around her as she had listened to the teenager's words about her and watched the writer's disappointment.

Johanna motioned for her to get up and follow her.

Kate nodded and silently followed her mother back to the bedroom.

Her mother closed the door behind them as Kate sat on the bed – it seemed the sheets did not burn after all.

Leaning against the doorframe, Johanna observed her daughter, waiting for her reaction.

"I see now what you meant earlier…" whispered Kate after a long moment of silence.

"About what?"

"About missed opportunities… you were talking about tonight, right?"

Her mother nodded.

"Among other things."

"I should have said yes, shouldn't I?"

Johanna walked over to the bed and sat by her daughter's side.

"I'm not here to tell you what you should or shouldn't do, Katie. I'm only here to show you things, to help you understand why you made the choices you made…"

"I don't even know why I turned him down…" whispered the young brunette.

"Are you sure about that?"

She observed her daughter, with the ever-present kindness that had been in her eyes since their first reunion.

Kate thought about a coherent answer to her mother's prodding.

"It's possible that maybe, lately, I haven't had the easiest time letting people into my life…" she conceded.

Johanna arched an eyebrow, not fully convinced.

"Letting _Castle_ into my life," corrected Kate.

She was having a hard time with this but she was probably on to something.

"Six months ago, he told me he loved me as I was losing consciousness… And since then I've pretended I never heard him say the words."

"And you don't know why?" asked Johanna, encouraging her daughter to go further in her reasoning.

"Because I was afraid of the consequences…"

"What consequences?"

"Well…" Kate took a deep breath. "Letting people into one's life is accepting to lose them at some point."

"So, if I follow your reasoning you'd rather have no one in your life so you never lose anyone."

The young brunette nodded slowly.

"And my disappearance has absolutely nothing to do with this reasoning of yours, right? The fact that I was taken away from you prematurely and so abruptly has not in any way influenced the way you deal with relationships today…"

Kate bit her bottom lip. Her mother laid a hand on hers.

"Katie, you can't let the scars from your past influence your life forever."

The young woman remained silent as that cursed knot in her throat was making a comeback. Johanna went on:

"I remember when you were about twelve years old, you loved going ice skating on the frozen lake behind your grandparents' house. One afternoon though, you took a nasty fall. You opened your forearm and broke your elbow. For weeks, months even, you swore you'd never go ice skating again."

Kate smiled at this 'painful' memory.

"I remember."

"And yet, two years later," continued Johanna, "we were back at my parents' for the holidays and you saw that lake that was calling out to you… You resisted what? Two days, before putting on your skates and going on the ice."

"That's right. I couldn't help it."

"And why's that?"

"Because I loved the way I felt when I was ice skating too much to give it up… The wind on my face, the sensation of flying as I glided over the translucent surface…"

"Because what you felt on the ice was so beautiful that you couldn't imagine not feeling that way ever again," rephrased her mother.

Kate nodded. She was slowly beginning to understand where her mother was getting at.

"The fall didn't put an end to your ice skating forever, it simply postponed your return on the ice. Deep down, you were just dying to feel that way again. So you went back. You went back on the ice, you took that risk; the risk of falling, of getting hurt again, because you knew it would be worth it."

"What you're trying to say is that it's worth letting people into my life because the feeling of 'being' with someone is much too beautiful to pass up on because of my irrational fears, right?"

"You said it, not me," replied Johanna with a smile.

Kate smiled in turn and sighed.

"Anybody ever tell you you're really good at this?"

"Yes—you, every day when you were five," said Johanna softly with some emotion in her voice.

She squeezed her daughter's hand a little harder.

"Come on, our journey is not over yet. I think you have a pretty good idea as to where we're going next."

Kate frowned, pretending to be thinking very hard, because indeed, she had a hunch.

"Ten years into the future to grab the winning lottery numbers and come back to control the universe?"

"We're not going that far… And I knew I should have monitored what you watched on TV more closely," commented Johanna with a smile.

"It was for the 'general public,'" countered Kate.

Johanna shook her head tenderly.

"Ready?"

"Ready Doc!" replied Kate with a satisfied grin.

The seconds that followed were now routine— the warmth, the electricity, the emptiness and in her hand, the lingering sensation of the writer's silk sheets.


	4. Chapter 4

**December 24th, 20—**

When she came to, Kate realized that this time, she was not lying down but seemed to be sitting in a rather comfortable leather chair.

She blinked a few times before opening her eyes completely. A strong, white light assaulted her and it took a moment for a sight to readjust.

She found herself in a large open space with numerous desks, lined up one after the other and people milling about busily. The place was completely unfamiliar to her… with reason.

When she looked up to the far wall on the left, she saw a large "New York Daily News" sign painted in capital letters under an old ticking clock. Clearly, she was in the offices of the newspaper, a place she had never been to before in her life.

Was it possible that in the future she had made such a drastic change in her life as to become…

"No, don't worry, you did not become a journalist," said a soft voice behind her.

Kate spun her chair around and found herself sitting in front of her mother.

"I had my doubts for a moment. So why are we here?" she asked, curious. "I don't recognize this place at all."

Johanna did not answer and got up on her feet, silently inviting her daughter to join her.

Kate, dutifully followed her in silence, although she had a myriad of questions that she was dying to ask.

Just like the other places they had visited before, no one seemed to notice their presence as they walked through the open space. Kate was strangely getting used to being an invisible observer.

After they had crossed the room, they reached an office at the end of a small corridor. On the door she could read: ", Chief Editor".

Kate arched an eyebrow and turned to her mother who was leaning against the door frame.

"The empty office of a stranger? That's what my future looks like? No flying skateboard? I don't even know any Kimmel."

"Patience…" told her Johanna with a smile.

Right on cue, a door behind them opened and they heard the hoarse but warm voice of a man shouting: "And I want that editorial for yesterday Kimmel!"

"It'll be on your desk before that boss!" replied a feminine voice.

Kate turned around to see a woman walk down the corridor toward them. She had long, brown hair, green eyes and a determined look to her.

The young detective frowned. This woman bore an uncanny resemblance to her. Was it a coincidence or was she…

"I'm stopping you right there," said Johanna, amused. "I understand you love 'Return to the future' but as I told you earlier, we didn't go that far into the future. So no, she is not your daughter, Katie."

Kate let out a sigh of relief. Even if all this turned out to be just a dream, she was not particularly keen on meeting her future child, thirty five years ahead of time.

"So who is she?" she asked, more confused than ever.

Johanna brought her index finger to her lips, indicating to her daughter to keep quiet and listen. And so Kate did just that, bringing her attention back on "".

The woman had just taken a seat behind her desk and was typing away on her keyboard. A tall, blonde, good-looking man appeared in her door frame, all smiles.

"Hey Kimmel, the guys and I are going out for drinks before going home for Christmas celebrations, wanna join us?"

"Oh, thanks Simmons, but not tonight," replied the young journalist without looking up from her screen. "I've got an editorial to finish within the hour and my article on the epidemics of the Central Park squirrel to send to the press before midnight. Maybe some other time."

The man frowned.

"You should slow down a little Allie, nobody works as much on a Christmas Eve. Tomorrow's newspaper can very well come out without that article. I think people will survive another day without news from Chip 'n' Dale."

"I like to finish what I've started Greg," she retorted, looking up for the first time, "you know me."

He nodded and she smiled.

"Next time, I promise. And don't get completely wasted eh! Otherwise your wife is gonna call again to ask me to keep a better eye on you."

Simmons smiled as he rolled his eyes.

"I swear, sometimes I feel like a teenager again. A teenager under his catholic mother's rule."

"She still forces you to go to midnight mass?" asked Allie, biting her lip to refrain a chuckle.

Her colleague nodded.

"I thought that hanging only two Magi on the Christmas tree would show how much I care about the religious part of the celebration but apparently not… Oh well, what we do for love…"

"Tell me about it!" reacted Allie. "Mine has been dragging me to toy stores for a month in order to 'test' everything before buying anything. And there aren't even any children in our immediate families!"

Kate smiled, that behavior sounded familiar.

Simmons eventually took his leave, wishing his colleague a merry Christmas.

During the following half hour, people left the open space one by one. Only a few employees stayed behind, typing away on the keyboards – maybe they were a little more zealous than their colleagues, or maybe a little more lonely. Allie was one of them – the zealous ones, not the lonely.

Kate looked at her mother. She still did not understand what they were doing there. And although the woman seemed nice enough to her – probably due to the fact that they had so much in common – she did not see the point of being there to watch her.

"You'll understand very soon," commented Johanna.

A few minutes went by during which Kate kept busy by scanning the open space, looking at the Christmas decorations, the children's drawings, the fake snow over the windows… Until finally, something happened. A young boy appeared in the room and crossed over to Allie's office.

"Madam Kimmel?"

The woman looked up.

"This is she."

"I had to… err—"

The young boy shifted from one foot to the other, embarrassed. He was no more than seventeen or eighteen.

"You had to…?"

"I came to tell you that they're impounding your car, ma'am."

"Impounding what? I didn't park anywhere illegal! Are you sure about this young man?"

"Yes ma'am," replied the boy, "it's your car."

Allie threw him a suspicious look. She was not sure she understood what was going on and did not want to fall prey to some kind of trap.

As a journalist, she had made enemies with time and she had grown suspicious, for her own good.

She examined the young boy to determine whether he was lying and soon realized she knew the man. In fact, she had seen him quite a few times before.

"You're my neighbor's grandson!"

"Err—Yes ma'am. Norma Collins is my grandma'."

The young boy blushed furiously and looked utterly uncomfortable.

But because she recognized him, Allie decided it was safe to follow him outside.

She got up, saving her work, and grabbed her purse and car keys before following the boy out. She kept her phone in one hand, just in case.

"Let's follow them," indicated Johanna.

Kate, her curiosity piqued, gladly complied. There was something off about the young boy and she wanted to see what he was hiding. So, they followed the duo in the elevator and down to the lobby.

If Allie and the boy had not spoken on the way down, she suddenly slowed down as they reached the revolving doors.

"How did you know it was my car exactly? It's a common black car."

The teenager looked down, embarrassed. He visibly had not expected that question.

"The guys who were taking it told me," he stammered.

Allie stopped.

"Why would they have told a complete stranger the name of the car's owner? And how would they have known my name anyway? The car's locked and my papers are in the glove compartment."

"I…"

The young boy was at a complete loss, unprepared for this series of questions.

"I just know you have to go see, ma'am," he whispered weakly, keeping his head down.

A light suddenly went on in Allie's mind as she understood what was going on. She should have guessed it the second she had recognized the young man.

Unexpectedly, she smiled broadly.

"Alright then, let's go. Let's see what's going on with my car!"

The young boy and Kate both looked utterly surprised by her reaction.

Allie pushed the revolving doors and stepped outside, followed by the young boy. Johanna and Kate followed as well.

Outside, the weather was cold but bearable. Night was slowly falling over New-York and the city was covered with a thin veil of snow. The numerous lights in the area lit the street in blue and golden colors, giving it a rather surreal feel.

The boy and the journalist stepped into the street, walking towards a deserted dead-end where the young woman had parked her car earlier.

A few feet away from the car, the boy stopped and turned to Allie.

"Well, I did what I had to do. I'll be going now. Good evening ma'am, Merry Christmas!"

Allie smiled in return.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Norma Collin's grandson."

The boy disappeared into another street without a word. Kate stared in disbelief at the scene. She had no clue as to what was happening before her eyes. And if the two previous moments she had witnessed in the past and present had seemed somewhat plausible, this particularly peculiar moment made her certain that this was all a dream after all.

"I still don't understand what we're doing here," she complained to her mother.

"Well, this is when you'll understand everything," replied Johanna as she lay a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

She nodded over to Allie who was carefully tip-toeing closer to her car, her heels softly crunching the snow underneath.

"I don't know where you're hiding, but you can come out now, I'm alone," she told the empty street.

Something at the other end of the street, someone was definitely hiding there. A man came out from behind the car; he was tall, imposing and wore a long navy blue coat buttoned up to the top. He was holding a bunch of flowers in one hand and a present in the other.

When he stepped forward, the light shone over his face.

Kate's heart missed a beat when she recognized the man and she felt her mother's hold over her shoulder grow tighter in support.

"Hello you," greeted Allie in a whisper as she stepped closer to him. "Didn't anybody ever tell you it's illegal to scare young, helpless women in dark and deserted alleys? People have been thrown to jail for far less!"

"Don't worry, I still have friends in the force," retorted the man, "they'd have me out of there in a jiffy."

"Too bad. I wouldn't have said no to a few months of holidays," teased the journalist.

The man pouted in response.

"I'm kidding, Rick. Who would provide me with new inside sources every week if you weren't around?"

Another pout from the writer. Allie stepped closer and reached up on her tip toes to drop a kiss on the man's cold lips.

A few meters away, Kate looked away.

She met her mother's kind eyes. She wanted to ask her "why?". Why put her through this? What was the point?

As always, Johanna heard her unspoken questions.

"You refuse to turn your back on your past, but at least try to look your potential future in the eyes," Johanna told her. "It's the only way I found to make you understand what you were about to lose."

Kate was not so sure she wanted to continue this journey. But she decided to put on a brave face, somewhat slightly curious to see what would happen anyway. If anything, she wanted to understand what had led to this situation.

She gritted her teeth and turned her head back to the couple. Allie moved away from the writer after one last kiss.

"You squashed my flowers," pointed out Castle. "Too bad, that was my present for you this year…"

He gave her the child-like pout that Kate found so adorable, giving him the air of a child who had just broken his favorite toy.

Allie smiled knowingly.

"What are you doing here anyway? I thought we were supposed to meet at your loft to open our presents!"

Castle rolled his eyes.

"If a man can't drop by his girlfriend's work to give her flowers anymore…"

"Come on, Rick, you know I didn't mean it like that. The flowers are lovely. But I do have an article I have to write before they start printing out tomorrow's paper."

"I won't be long," promised the writer. "I just didn't want us to stay on this morning's argument."

Allie shook her head.

"Aww, it was already all forgotten honey."

"Still. I wanted to talk."

"Okay, I'm listening."

"What you told me.. You were right," started the writer in a whisper. "I am still living in the past. I kept dating women who were like her… And it's one of the things that attracted me to you in the first place."

Allie looked up at her partner.

"If that's supposed to make me feel better… it's not."

"I know, just… let me finish," continued the writer. "I tried to understand that woman, to _get_ her for many years. I gave her my heart in a box and I waited… and waited. She could have opened that box at any moment in time, but she chose not to. She never let me into her life."

"I know the story," replied Allie, dropping her head. "I know I'm only your second choice."

"No!" countered Castle. "And that's my point. Ever since I gave up on her, ever since I left the precinct three years ago, and until I met you, I was trapped in a cycle of meaningless relationships, trying to recreate what I had with her. I know that now. I wanted to meet strong, interesting women who were dedicated to their work but would still find a place for me in their life."

"You're kind of drawing my portrait here Richard," pointed out Allie sullenly.

A few meters away, Kate listened intently. Even if it had not happened yet, she already felt as though she had missed out on something precious.

"You see, you're not the only one who lets her past guide her life," whispered Johanna in her ear. "You each have your crosses to bear."

Kate nodded absently, her attention firmly set on the couple.

"You're different from the others Allie, I promise you," insisted Castle. "You make me smile, you make me laugh and you're not afraid of my childishness."

Allie smiled at that remark.

"I even manage to drag you to toy stores for hours and you never complain, you never get impatient with me. It took me a while to understand it but, loving another sometimes means you have to sacrifice a bit of yourself to step into their world, but it also means making room in your world for them. It's shared work. It's not just one party waiting for the other to make a move. And I want to share everything with you, Allie. Everything. Even our dirty socks if you want."

The journalist shook her head softly and looked at the man standing in front of her with some emotion and amusement.

"If you weren't already a writer, I'd tell you that you've found your calling," she whispered softly. "That being said, you can keep your dirty socks to yourself."

"Alright, I'll keep the socks," conceded Castle, "but allow me to share this with you."

With those words, he gave the young woman the present he had been holding in his hand, laying down on the concrete his squashed bunch of flowers.

"What is it?" asked Allie, curious.

"Hum, you see this is a thing called 'a present' and the point is that the other person doesn't know what's inside of it."

The woman stuck her tongue out to the writer before unwrapping her present hastily.

When she opened it, she took out a t-shirt that she unfolded. From her point of view, Kate could not see the design on the front. But it looked as though it touched the journalist.

"I love it! It's so unique!" exclaimed Allie cheerfully. "But you'll forgive me if I only wear it on Sunday mornings and when we're alone. I'm not sure it would be incredibly appropriate for work. Plus, t-shirts are so 1990's!"

Rick nodded and undid the buttons of his coat.

"I had one made for me, too. That way, you'll always carry my childish side on you, and I'll always carry your 'I do strange things with huge printers and my boyfriend doesn't get it' side on me."

The journalist burst out laughing when she saw his t-shirt.

"It's awesome! Although it's not my best profile," noted Allie.

"Well, it was the only picture I could find that fit," explained the writer.

"It's perfect, don't worry."

She pushed on her toes to kiss him and at the other end of the street, Kate looked away.

After a short moment that seemed like an eternity to the detective, the two lovers parted again.

"Hey! How about I give you a tour of the printing rooms while the building is almost empty? We're sharing, right? That's what you said?"

Rick nodded.

"I'd love that. That way if one day my editor doesn't like my work anymore, I'll sneak in here to print my stuff."

"I didn't really picture a 'sharing' scenario where I'd lose my job, Rick."

The writer pouted again.

"Oh, it'd been a while," noted Allie. "Come on, let's go. And stop pouting."

"Alright, but on one condition!"

The journalist arched an eyebrow.

"Which is?"

"We keep our t-shirts to go over there."

Allie shifted positions, taking a moment to think about that condition. Then, deciding there were not too many employees inside who would care about her clothes, she accepted.

"Alright. Let's go before I change my mind."

The duo locked arms and walked out of the alley, past Kate and her mother. If Kate was tempted to look away when they reached them, her curiosity about the t-shirts won over her cowardice and she kept her eyes on them.

Castle was wearing a t-shirt with a picture of a younger Allie, sitting in front of a pile of newspaper clips, smiling charmingly at the photographer.

Then, Kate looked over at the other woman's t-shirt, curious to see what had delighted her so much.

For the second time of the evening, her heart skipped a beat.

On the t-shirt, she saw the image of a young boy with brown hair and blue eyes, wearing a navy turtleneck sweater. A boy she recognized easily. "_That__way,__you__'__ll__always__carry__my__childish__side__on__you_," had said the writer.

Without so much as a warning, Johanna gripped her daughter's hand and pressed it against her chest. Kate did not even have time to react as, for the third time, she felt her world disappear. The dancing stars, the warmth and the darkness… A prolonged darkness.

And out of that darkness, her mother's voice:

"You see that t-shirt? You understand what it means? Sometimes something can be right in front of our eyes our whole life and we never even see it. Sometimes the answer to all our questions is right in front of us but we always look away. Until now, your life, just like anybody else's, has been a series of missed chances. If you really want to change things, if you don't want to miss this chance, you are gonna have to move forward Kate."

"Why do I feel like this is goodbye?" asked Kate anxiously.

"Just because you can't see me doesn't mean I'm not there, Katie. I'm always with you. I'm in your features, I'm in your father's bright eyes, in your need for perfection. I'm in your courage, your doubts. I'm the imprint of your past, the shadow of your memories, the strength of your present and the peace of your future. You carry me with you. You'll always carry me with you."

Kate remained mute, absorbing her mother's word, weighing their full force and bracing herself for the impending separation.

For now, the words did not mean much to her. It would probably take her time to understand them fully. For now, all she could feel was the knot in her stomach, anticipating the emptiness to come.

"I trust you, Katie. Don't force me to come back to get you with my Delorean!"

Kate could not suppress a smile.

Then the darkness turned to a bright, warm light. She thought back to the frozen lakes and the hours she had spent gliding freely over ice and a new wave of warmth engulfed her. She felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She could not have explained it with words, but she knew that, in that moment, something broken, something heavy had just left her. And even if it was all just a dream, the sensation she felt at that very moment was pure magic.

Then, for the last time on this Christmas eve, she lost consciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Epilogue**

The sound that woke her could only be described as constant muffled drilling.

She painfully opened her eyes. Her body ached as though she had come back from a particularly intense training session.

She stretched out carefully, looking at her surroundings. She was back at the 12th precinct. The lights were on and the bullpen empty. Everything was back to the way it was before the power outage.

She frowned. She could still hear the muffled drilling. Was it her imagination playing tricks on her?

She looked down and understood that the sound came from her phone, not her imagination. The device vibrated and blinked on her desk, the name "Castle" flashing on the screen.

She took the phone in her hand and read the time; it was five to nine. She frowned again.

Was it possible that she had not only dreamt this surreal meeting with her meeting but her phone conversation with the writer as well? But then, when had she fallen asleep? The phone had started ringing only a few minutes after Esposito had left…

Puzzled, she slid her finger over the screen and picked up.

"Castle?"

"It would seem so," replied the writer, "at least that's what most people seem to call me these days, yes."

"I, err—hi."

"Everything okay Beckett? You sound a bit… distracted."

"No I… I'm fine, Castle," assured the young woman as she tried to gather her thoughts. "Did you need something? Aren't you tangled up in the kitchen by now?"

"I absolutely am! Actually I just finished sewing up my turkey's privates and I'm now tending to my delicious gravy as we speak. I just wanted to call and see if you had survived this long day without your _perfect__partner_."

At the words, Beckett almost dropped her phone. She looked around the room, searching for any hidden cameras, anything that would give a rational explanation to this situation.

"Kate? Are you still there?" the writer asked over the phone.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," she replied, putting the phone back to her ear. "I'm sorry Castle, it's been a long day. We arrested a bunch of 'fake Santas', just like any other year. I just hope we didn't imprison the real one."

"I was gonna say," noted the writer.

Beckett smiled. Of course he was going to say the same thing, that's why she had taken some pleasure in saying it before him.

"Mmm, this gravy is deliciously perfect," commented Castle, "a masterpiece if I do say so myself."

"And you're not at all saying this because you made it, right?" retorted Beckett with the strange impression of reciting a text that was already written out for her.

"Of course not! I wouldn't dare!" protested Castle dramatically.

A brief moment of silence followed their exchange before Castle cleared his throat to speak. But Kate decided it was time to change this conversation a bit.

"Castle, about your invitation…"

"What invitation?" asked the writer with feigned innocence, slightly surprised that the detective had chosen to speak about that topic just when he was about to.

"Your invitation to spend Christmas Eve with you. I thought about it and… well, if it's not too late, I'd very much like to join your party."

"Oh! Absolutely! It's not too late at all!" beamed the writer with a voice that did nothing to hide his excitement. "There is plenty of food, enough to feed an ogre! Not that I'm implying that you're…"

Kate smiled.

"I know, Castle, don't worry."

Over the line she could swear she heard a "high five" between the writer and his daughter.

"Come whenever you're ready, Kate, we will gladly welcome you in our humble home.

Behind him, Kate heard his daughter tell him not to overdo it and she smiled.

"Hum, yes, so, that's great," corrected the writer. "I'll try to stop Alexis from opening the presents before you… awwww!"

"Something tells me she's not the one to keep an eye on tonight," commented Kate, amused.

"Right."

From where she was, she could imagine the writer's pout. She shook her head with a smile.

"Right, well. I'll see you later, Castle."

"See you later, Kate."

The detective hung up the phone and sat back in her chair, thoughtful. Her mind went over the events of the last few "hours".

Would she ever understand what had happened to her? She doubted it.

Telling the story to Castle would make life impossible; she would never hear the end of it.

So, she decided to keep this particular side of the story to herself and concentrate on the paperwork she _still_ had to finish.

Twenty minutes later, she was leaving the precinct, hoping to find one particular shop still open at this hour.

A little over an hour later, she pressed the writer's doorbell.

She had undone her hair, holding only a few strands with a golden pin. She wore a long black dress with a tastefully low neckline, a cream-colored cardigan and high heels. She was holding a bunch of flowers in one hand and in the other, hidden behind her back, a large present.

When Castle opened the door, he held a spatula in one hand and wore the apron she had seen in her "dream".

Could she still call it that?

His jaw dropped when he saw the detective in a dress that hugged her divine body in all the right places and showed just enough to please his imagination. The flowers she held were also a nice, unexpected touch.

"It's the first time a woman offers me flowers," he commented with a charming smile.

"They're not for you, Castle. They're for Alexis."

"Oh…"

He looked down, confused and Kate smiled.

"This one is for you though," she said as she showed him the package into behind her back.

The writer's eyes sparkled.

"If I were you I'd hide that behind the tree before he reaps it out of your hands to guess what it is," warned Alexis from inside the apartment.

Castle looked over at his daughter and frowned, then he indicated the tree with his eyes. He was visibly trying to give Alexis a message and Kate has a hunch as to what it was.

"I… I'll take care of it," offered the teenager as she stepped to the doorway.

Castle nodded, relieved.

"Good evening," greeted the young girl as she held her hands for the package. "Oh wow, thank you."

Kate had just given her the flowers and they exchanged timid smiles.

"Merry Christmas, Alexis."

"Merry Christmas, detective Beckett."

"Merry Christmas Rick," said the writer to himself.

The two women gave him a tender smile. Alexis hedged herself up on her tiptoes and kissed her father.

"Merry Christmas, Castle," said Kate with a smile somewhat different than the one she had given his daughter.

He nodded and smiled back.

"Merry Christmas, Kate."

The rest of the evening happened like one of the cheesy Christmas specials Kate had thought about earlier in the evening. It had been a long time since she had spent a Christmas Eve so joyful and carefree.

The writer had prepared a feast for them. They enjoyed foie gras, salmon, a turkey with the infamous delicious gravy and a sweet chocolate Yule log.

Alexis had prepared a playlist of Christmas songs on her computer and Kate was even treated to another rendition of the "Falalalala" she had heard earlier, by the writer. Alexis did the chorus. The writer insisted Kate join them but singing was still beyond her capacity at the moment.

"Maybe next year," she suggested, bringing the glass of champagne to her lips.

"Okay. I'll hold you to it! One full Christmas song! And you'll dress us as Mother Claus."

"Hum, don't push it, Castle," she replied with a laugh.

The writer pouted and shrugged.

"Well, I tried."

Over the chimney, the clock chimed twelve times.

The writer leapt off his seat, making Kate jump in surprise.

"Midnight! Midnight! Midnight!"

Alexis shared a knowing look with Kate.

"He is like that every year. Five or six years ago he even sprained his foot jumping on the couch! He opened his presents in the ER."

Kate smiled and looked over at the writer who was still hopping around with excitement.

"Alright, let's open'em!" proclaimed the writer.

"Open mine first!" said Alexis as she walked over to the imposing tree to take out the present she had hidden under it.

Kate stood up and put her champagne glass back on the table. She then joined the writer and his daughter, keeping some small distance so she would not interrupt a family moment.

The teenager gave a small, square package to her father. He grabbed it, weighed it and shook it.

"Dad, think of the penholder," warned Alexis.

"Right." He immediately stopped the shaking. "May it rest in peace."

He then tore through the wrapping with the impatience of a five-year old. Under it, he found a non descript box.

"You're playing with my nerve, Pumkin," said the writer.

"That's the point, yeah," replied the teenager with a wink to Beckett.

He opened the box and beamed when he saw its contents.

Rolled up in a small bundle, he found a Canucks scarf inside. Castle took it out and immediately put it around his neck.

"It's this season's too!" specified Alexis.

Castle leaned forward to kiss her and then stopped.

"I hope you didn't go to Vancouver to get this without telling me…!"

Alexis rolled her eyes.

"You know dad, for a few years now, there has been this great invention called the Internet and online shopping. You should try it someday."

"Haha, funny," grumbled the grown man. "Alright, your turn to open your present! And don't take your grandma's or we'll never hear the end of it tomorrow!"

Alexis knelt down and took out a red package with her name on it from under the tree. It wasn't very large and had a rectangular shape. She delicately put her hear to it, as though it would reveal its secrets to her.

"It's not really fragile, so you can go at it," said the writer.

Indeed, there was nothing fragile about the two seats to _My__Chemical__Romance_'s last show that she took out from the package.

The teenager let out a cry of joy and wrapped her arms around her father.

"This is exactly what I wanted!"

"Hum yes," started the writer, "the mayor knows somebody who knows somebody who knows Santa Claus. He helped me out."

"I have got to tell Jessica about this! She's gonna go crazy!"

With those words, she ran to the stairs with excitement but stopped on the first step, realizing she was abandoning her father and Beckett in the middle of opening presents.

"I'm sorry. I have to make a phone call. I won't be long!"

Castle nodded in understanding.

"Go! Ungrateful daughter."

Alexis stuck her tongue out to him before disappearing upstairs. He shook his head and turned to Kate who had not moved.

"Kids…"

She smiled.

"Says their leader," she whispered teasingly.

He was about to protest but decided she was not so wrong after all. Moreover, there were more important things to deal with…

"Alright, go on. Open your present now," he told her.

"My present?" she repeated in feigned surprise. "you weren't even sure I'd come."

"Let's say I had one just in case," he replied, giving her a package. "Merry Christmas, Kate."

She smiled warmly and took the package from him.

When he let go, she almost dropped it. It was not very big but it was definitely heavy.

"What did you put in there? A rock? Is this some kind of trap to lure me in?"

"Hum… you're not so far off," replied the writer mysteriously.

The young detective started unwrapping her present with difficulty.

"Here, I'll hold it for you," he offered.

He took the package as Kate started attacking the red paper wrapped around it.

They felt thrills running down their spines a few times when their fingers would touch, linger and part. Eventually, she discovered her present.

Kate arched an eyebrow, intrigued when she saw… a small block of concrete.

"I… err—Thanks?"

Castle smiled proudly.

"I guess I owe you an explanation."

"No, not at all," she replied ironically, "it's obvious this block represents…"

She stopped, quite incapable of finding an explanation for this peculiar gift.

"Do you remember the fundraiser I decided to launch to create a fund in your mother's name?"

The young woman nodded slowly. They had never talked about that gesture since.

"Well, let's that my contacts really came through and the amount of money collected went way beyond what I had expected. So, the dean at your mother's law faculty suggested something new for the money. He suggested we open a new wing at the faculty, one that would welcome students with limited financial means but with a desire to 'change the world' in the best of ways. The one your mother lived by."

"I… I'm not sure I understand," said Kate in a murmur, her hands trembling.

"Well, what you're holding is the first block of this new building the university is going to build for those students, the Johanna Beckett wing."

Kate opened her mouth to speak but words escaped her.

"Merry Christmas, Kate," whispered Castle for the third time of the evening.

She shook her head.

"You are crazy… You're…"

She thought about her mother's last words. Her promise to always be there in her life, no matter what. What better way to honor her memory than the gift the writer had just given her.

"I'm brilliant, yes, you can say it," finished the writer with a dazzling smile.

Kate smiled.

"For once, I agree Castle. But if you repeat this at the precinct on Monday, I'll deny ever saying the words."

He nodded.

"Deal."

She still had a hard time realizing what his gift meant. She looked at the writer with utter gratitude.

"Thank you."

His answer was one of his warmest smile.

Silence fell around them as they locked eyes and stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

After a moment, Kate snapped back to reality. She still had something to do.

"My turn now! As you saw earlier, I also have a present for you. But… I'd like us to go 'somewhere' to open it."

This time, it was Castle's turn to arched an eyebrow.

"Somewhere? Is it something dangerous? Something that might make my apartment catch on fire?"

Kate smiled but shook her head.

"Absolutely not. Let's just say it's something symbolic and I'd like you to open it in a particular setting."

The writer's curiosity was definitely piqued.

"Okay, I'm game. Let's go! Let me grab my coat."

Castle warned his daughter – still on the phone – that they were going out and followed Beckett outside, holding his precious gift tightly.

"We need to take my car, but it's not very far," said the detective as she blew hot air on her hands.

The evening was cold.

Castle was dying to know what this was all about, but tried to hide it best he could. However, during the thirty-minute drive, he brought the package to his ear several times, trying out the infamous "talking package" technique.

The package however remained strangely silent.

When Kate's car turned one last time onto a street and slowed down Castle seemed to recognize their destination immediately.

"Harlowe park? You're taking me to Harlowe park? I used to spend every Saturday afternoon there when I was a kid! Even after that."

Kate smiled but did not answer. She parked her car in the deserted parking of the park, took the package from Castle's lap and stepped out of the car.

As one would expect, the park was closed at that hour of the night. But it wasn't hard to climb over its fences for one used to chasing after New-York's criminals.

Kate temporarily gave the present back to Castle and took off her pumps. She shivered when her feet came in contact with the snow, her stockings offering little if no protection against the cold.

"Look behind you," she told the writer as she put a foot on a bar.

"Why?" he asked not understanding her point. "What's to see?"

"Hum… I really need to draw you a picture here, Castle?" she replied as she continued her climb and was almost above the writer's head.

He looked up at the detective and noted her dress and their current position. He understood.

"Oh. Hum. Of course," he said, blushing as he turned his head.

When she reached the top of the fence, Kate let herself drop to the other side gracefully.

"Hand me my shoes and the package through the bars and get over here, Castle," she indicated with a wink.

The writer obeyed her and soon joined her on the other side. They walked together in silence towards the square Kate had visited earlier in her "dream".

When they walked past the carousel, Castle explained that he used to come spend hours on the horses between the ages of eight and fourteen but after a certain age, the manager had made it clear he had become "too old" for a ride.

"There shouldn't be an age limit to go on a carousel," he grumbled, still frustrated after so many years.

Kate smiled in silence.

They walked another thirty feet across the park before Kate pointed to a bench at the far end of an alley.

"Let's sit there."

The writer arched an eyebrow but continued to follow her without a word – going against his curious nature.

They sat down. Kate softly ran her hand over the bench she had woken up on earlier in the evening. Then, she gave his present back to the writer, inviting him to open it.

Contrary to the impatience he had shown earlier in the loft, Castle took his time opening the present that had had his imagination running for the past half hour.

Inside, he found a present that surprised him almost as much as the block of cement had surprised Beckett.

He arched an eyebrow and looked at her quizzically. The young woman smiled and indicated the lake in front of them.

"You want to…? Now?" he asked, surprised.

She nodded, still smiling.

"But…?"

The writer did not really understand the meaning behind this gift.

"You don't know how to skate?" asked the woman as she looked at the two pairs of skates in his hands.

"Are you kidding me? I was part of a hockey team when I was a kid!"

"So? What's stopping you?"

"Well, nothing. Absolutely nothing," Castle ran a hand over his neck. "Just… why?"

She eyed the bigger pair of skates.

"Put those on, let's go on the ice and I'll tell you everything, okay?" You're an 11½, right?"

He nodded.

"How did you guess?"

"A quick phone call to your mother before she went on stage," revealed the detective, sticking a bit of tongue out proudly.

The writer stared, dumbfounded. Then he handed the smaller pair to the woman and put on his own.

"Right, well, let's go then," he said when he was ready.

Kate gave him a nod and they got on their feet, leaving coats and shoes on the bench. They took a few hesitant steps on the snow towards the frozen lake.

The lake had a slight blue-ish reflection as it was lit by the myriad of lanterns hanging in the surrounding trees. When they reached the edge of the lake, they stopped.

"It's solid? You're sure?" asked Castle, feeling uneasy.

"Kids come to skate here all day long, I sure hope it's solid," she replied with a reassuring smile.

She was the first to step on the ice. It took her a few moments to find her feet, but soon, and despite the fact that she hadn't skated in a while, she found herself gliding over the ice with ease.

She drew a loop on the ice with her skates and shivered at the sensation of the wind against her face. Then, she turned to Castle who hadn't moved.

"Well Castle, what are you waiting for?"

He seemed hesitant.

"I thought you played okay as a kid?" she teased.

"Well… In truth I was only goalkeeper," he confessed, " and most of the time I played substitute. The only thing that really slid in my experience was the orange juice over my face when the other players on my team teased me after a match."

The young woman bit her lip, touched. Then, with a few slides she was by his side.

"You still know how to skate a little, right?"

He nodded.

"It's been while."

She smiled and held out a hand to him.

"Hold on to me then."

He hesitantly grabbed the offered hand and put a skate on the ice, then another.

His first steps were clumsy, but, with his partner's help and after a few moments of finding his feet as well, he considered flying solo.

But his success was short-lived as he soon fell, sprawled over the ice.

Kate bit down a laugh and skated to him. She held out a hand to help him up.

He took her hand but, instead of using it to get up, he held it against his torso and plunged his eyes into hers.

"You still haven't told me the truth."

"About what?" she asked, alarmed.

Was he talking about a certain ongoing lie of hers?

"Earlier, you said your gift was a symbolic one and before you said you'd tell me why we're here if I got on the ice. I'm here, I'm on the ice, my ass is frozen wet, so I'm listening."

"Oh, that."

She took a deep, cold breath, relieved.

"Yes, that. What did you think?"

"Nothing."

She shook her head and smiled before pulling the writer to his feet. Their forehead met briefly and they looked away, embarrassed.

"Hum… Yes, so, if I brought you here it's because this place as a particular place in my heart."

"I'm listening," encouraged Castle softly as they slowly skated around.

"When I was a child, I used to go ice skating every winter. It was my passion. When the winter arrived, when the lakes froze, I would run out with my skates and glide over the ice for hours."

Castle smiled, imagining a tiny version of Kate, with skates on, a bonnet and scarf protecting her.

"One time, I was skating behind my grandparents' house and took a nasty fall. I had my arm in a sling for several months. After that fall, I swore I'd never get back on skates."

She took a deep breath, trying to find a good way of telling her story.

"I think I was scared. I was so scared of the pain I had felt when I fell, I wanted to spare myself another painful fall. And I thought never going ice skating was the best way for that. That was the first wall I ever built I think. I didn't know it then of course, but, it was there. The first wall between myself and the things that scared me most."

Castle nodded, listening intently.

"Not long ago," she continued, "someone reminded me of that time. They also reminded me that after two years of living with that fear, I found the courage to put on my skates again. And the sensations I felt once I found myself on the ice once again… It was incredible!"

She smiled at the memory.

"I understand now that refusing to experience certain things for fear that some rare and random event occurs again is not what 'living' is about. I understand that in order to experience the good things in life, one has to be ready to accept the bad as well."

She stopped a moment as the writer observed her. Was she really talking about what he thought?

She looked down at her feet.

"Why do I have a feeling you're not just talking about ice skating here?" he whispered softly.

She looked back up.

"Because I'm not," she replied simply.

He nodded silently, encouraging her to continue.

"Castle, I can't promise you that things will change overnight. I can't promise you that overnight I'll be able to bring down that wall I built between myself and the rest of the world – that wall I built without knowing when my mother died. But tonight, I remember I could skate again. That I just needed a little bit of time… and courage. But I know I can do it."

She had nothing more to say. She looked at him, worried. Had he understood her message?

He smiled lovingly at her before looking around them, amazed by the beauty of their surroundings and touched by the young woman's underlying confession. She had just told him, in no uncertain terms that one day she would find a place for him in her life. She simply asked for more time. It was about her mother's murder anymore, it was about the past. It was just a matter of going back on the ice, of finding that courage. Something had changed, he could see it in her eyes. And that look she gave him was all he needed to find assurance after the rough times they had had.

"I feel like taking lessons," he said out of the blue.

Kate arched an eyebrow.

"Lessons of?"

"Ice skating. So that I can skate by your side when you decide you're ready to get back on the ice."

She smiled. This subtlety, the metaphor… It was typical of him.

"Until then maybe you can show me the basics?" he suggested, holding his hand out to her.

She nodded once and took the writer's cold hand in hers. She stopped them and looked him in the eyes.

"Thank you."

He gave her a nod.

"Merry Christmas, Kate."

Together, they glided over the eyes. Their steps were hesitant, not quite in harmony.. for now at least.

But at least, they skated together.

Behind them on the bench, the shadow of a woman, smiling.

She had done her part.

_A few moments later, the bench was empty…_


End file.
